Wizards

Hellbent on absolutist discernment a mad wizard launches a war, his blind and terrorizing frenetic frenzy abolishing play and trust and dignity.

The hedonistic free and agile people dig in deep to wildly respond, exorcizing wave after demonic wave with unheralded self-sacrifice and bitter reckoning.

Another wizard heads into the fray and boldly sets out with determined accompaniment, of a joyful laidback disposition he'd much rather experiment or garden. 

The outer reaches of the post-apocalyptic struggling world as of yet unaffected, distinct realms and brave communities sternly await combative discipline. 

Humanistically inspiring for many long decades of settled reasonable cultivation, the Berlin Wall suddenly torn down, the neverending Cold War seemingly at an end.

The chillaxed Avatar a guiding focus exhaustively compelled to fight for good, even if he occasionally overlooks the antipathies unless directly tasked to acknowledge them. 

Why the obsession with power the stilted desire to manage and control, a bunch of people who aren't listening anyway and prefer simple pleasures to grandiose conjecture?

Is it really that much more exciting to follow a madman off a cliff, than to accept innate multiplicities which spice and flavour peaceful wanderings?

Is your town not all the better off for the different restaurants found within, the Indian and Chinese outlets which succulently lead to sushi and phở and baklava?

Do you know how healthy it is for your mind when you start to learn a second language, and how alert and active it keeps you like brainiac caffeine culturally brewed?

These different groups that make up a community don't lead to chaos and division, they motivate change through curiosity as artistic works and athletics disseminate!

Immigration is the foundation of North America and will always be a dependable resource. 

Without modest change there's no stability. 

No reward or sacrifice.

It's fundamental. 

Jiang Ziya

The realm of the demon scurrilously oppresses the unsuspecting people with wicked cunning, until the gods take fluent cardigan mercy and affably supply a kind-hearted champion.

The foes clash and battle and destroy until beauty and wonder fade from the Earth, and all that's left are wanton reflexes bombastically seeking mortal ruin.

Eventually, the fighting stops and the kind-hearted warrior is tasked once again, to see if he is ready to rule the gods with bold decision and incarnate reckoning. 

Banished to a frozen wasteland with many others whom he once fought, he can't sit still and humbly contemplate while tempting questions lithely fluster.

He sets out in search of answers sympathetically unable to obey commands, the compelling drive to aid his new friend in resolute question upheld unbidden.

Yet a higher level of executive functioning officiously scrutinizes his acts meanwhile. 

Attempting to cataclysmically transform.

Kind-hearted reason into absolutist sufferance. 

Does leadership command the unprincipled devotion of warlike jaded contradictory cynicism, or do compassionate alternatives modestly contend with thoughtful levity and playful understanding?

The bellicose leader will no doubt attempt to sincerely seem laidback and humorous, while the decent individual will at times employ strength and discipline to get things done.

But at the end of the day the kind-hearted leader facilitates consistency and open-minded trust (Augustus Caesar/Claudius), while the self-obsessed demagogue extracts envy from decay in a constantly shifting foundationless masquerade (Tiberius/Caligula). 

If you study your nation's leadership going back for hundreds of years, if democratically affiliated, you'll find multivariability. 

Thus Clement Attlee defeated Winston Churchill - how did that happen? - in 1945.

And Biden defeated Trump.

Only to be thrown under the bus for his troubles. 

Big Trouble in Little China

Ageless limitless magical constellations symphonically scintillating voltaic vibes, unleashed sorcery conjured warlockdown inherent conflict improvised strategy.

Delivery scheduled, an outspoken trucker makes his way across North America, treating those listening to random outbursts of concrete wisdom and tough-talking jive.

Exoterically sermonizing on diverse subjects with bold declarations and happenstance harkening, he makes his way to San Francisco where he joins some friends in a night of gambling.

It's a special day for his closest bro since his innocent betrothed is arriving from China, whom he needs to meet at the nearby airport later that morning without further delay.

They make their way to the arrival zone but aren't the only ones awaiting her presence, a troubling group of angry ne'er-do-wells hoping to swiftly steal her away.

They succeed and bring her to Chinatown where she's recruited by a local business.

Avidly sought after by our heroes.

Who courageously seek bold conjugal virtue. 

Big Trouble in Little China is a hardboiled cult classic from a different age, when special effects were becoming less hokey and everyday people where cinematically kind.

We therefore find a compelling example of laidback wit and charming candour, making quick decisions with inspiring bravery even if he lacks esoteric wherewithal. 

It's the kind of campy industrious fortitude classically interwoven into action-packed chaos, that strikes an eternal bedlambience which constructively nurtures wilderness whimsy. 

If the filmmakers involved hadn't sincerely given 'er with monumental gusto the results may have been less memorable. 

John Carpenter habitually excels at encouraging strong performances. 

With exceptional line after exceptional line.

Unabashed and confident.

On down the road. 

Man is not a Bird

Kickstarter questerley invoked adventure intermittent mangroves quixotic quota, exceeding rubiconstruct ludic illumination reliable industry clandestine craft.

Bewitching boisterous brouhaha bedlam sonorous seniority tantamount treasure, centripetal rosebud mischievous masquerade frisky flamboyance fluorescent mica.

Lyrical lashing empirical protocol curmudgeon cruelty catalyst cantanchor, indigent disciple stoic itinerance apocryphal cadence recrudescent ruffle.

Borgnine embodiment resilient knowhow wainscotting whisper charcuterie, mastodon munchies salsaccharine swagger agglomerate drove compact Whitherspoon. 

Adjacent envelopment borderline betrothal conjugal quagmire doughty daillagency, crystalline kalamazoologee-willikers sandstone swashbuckle Mirabel mocha.

Fission fossilicone ice creamerrymaking quicksilver confection licorice slush, insurgent impacmanic plasticine pinion olfactory ore insurmontevideo. 

Excessive utterance moomoo mervishbone carnivalessence bucolic crater, stuccometeorious malamute melt grilled carburetorso non-descript orbit. 

Forestorative pasteurized glade embowering Berma Bogota bushwhack, penitinkarousel Doritotoga intergermainstay august o-line.

Invaluable temper Elysium lattice Vanderbeek bullion wingéd ugnaught, acquisitive unction undertiptoejam elusive capsulu festive Flinflon. 

Recalcitrance Mulliniks Fjordan bellwether Barfield bartartar alkaloid Moseby, souvenir shuffle carcajou hi-jinx mandrake exhibition marmaducalisthème.

Symphonic synergies jambiguous jounce Beethoven glow-worm orchestral swing, velveteen muster galvanized aggregate countryside clamber bakery blush.

Sashizzle cistern dazzling depitome euphemizerlatintin Calcutta crunch, quotidian epics interminable fortunes electrified finance bustling Botswana.

Happenstance hive.

Imbroglio depot.

Mechanized maestro. 

Really cool music.  

The Boy and the Heron

Tumultuous tragedy bellicose bombardment inhospitable hegemony disconsolate disaster, wartime waspish wincing saturnine dismal devastation laconic lockdown.

A spirited move out of harm's way felicitous fortunes august acculturation, incumbent sadness besought fatigue synchronized siesta voltaic vroom.

Resilient retinue gregarious gatherings sycamore sympathy symphonic stack, unhindered wanderings atavistic adventures non-sequitarzany clandestine quests. 

Distressing disappearance worrisome whittling Sombretown searching hearty solemnity, immersive quandary querulous kibble flexible physics asymmetric stone.

Intangible tinsel impalpable pulp amorphous dimension sibilant sorcery, spiritual succotash insouciant sushi transformative quadrant juxtaposition. 

Whambient wavelengths fantastic frequencies imaginative hyper-reactive illusion, bewildernestled oblique immaterial shapeshifting quagmiracult-de-saquesters.

Archaic sentiment serpentine simplicity quaker o'tantamount reanimation, consistent regroupings chrysalid coordinates oblong addresses arhythmic artistry. 

Aquadrilatticeworkinder'eggstatic palimperception existentorian, quintessenshisha hurrisugarcandolittle exubearingstraitjacket willowridesharangue. 

Sublimerickshawshankbernard encompassing subterranean nexus, dreamlichintegritty gruel mossemboss'kosh granknitty slimpickety bandanana. 

Subconscious sandmanic slumberton reverie quixoticambridge i'deal'emblematic, elephanatic rhinosirriustic wildebeesturnstyle crocodilettantics.

Vacancy velvet caroussel candleliturgy seasaunter Mirvishlistless incredulity, acceleration inquisitive maven curious exquisite tournyquil'bation.

Accented effervest hogtirade levity interlude schism cosmicrobull mist, courageous acoustics tumbledown tweedle discursive reunion familial galaxy. 

Saw a heron the day after I watched this.

In an uncharacteristic spot.

It didn't fly away either, like they usually do when you're up close.

Neat.

I've seen every Ghibli. 

Excalibur

The reliable maintenance of fantastic legend convivially maintained century after century, as the present consistently bores its contemporaries and they adamantly search for entertaining alternatives. 

Odd that a nation as old as Britain doesn't cash in on more of its legends, aren't King Arthur and Robin Hood and Churchill just peas in the tumultuous historical pod?

Their markets are no doubt durable and habitually enable modest artists to prosper, even if some examples lack daring or innovation or narrative depth or multivariability. 

When to release the next instalment look to the Jurassic Park franchise I would, I was crazy excited to see the first one, and lacked interest after no. 3, but so much time had passed before Jurassic World came out, that I found myself enthusiastic again.

I remember seeing the Disney Camelot cartoon when but a wee lad in the 1980s, and how excited I impressionably was to see King Arthur wield sword from stone.

The idea of divine agency still genuinely compelling and keenly motivating, so odd to see it televisually disseminated in mad political advertisements. 

The idea never loses its intriguing longevity decade after decade millennia after millennia, but it ebbs and flows through the passage of time, logic and reason having lost popular ground in recent times due to the internet.

It's disheartening to see so many nations of well-read citizens lugubriously reduced, to listening to broadcasts spread by dictators that they were able to see through when they were 7.

You see the problems with dictatorships or monarchies or oligarchies played out in Excalibur, wherein which you have Arthur's prosperous reign followed by that of woebegone tyrants.

The sad reality that many strict rulers don't seek stable food supplies and infrastructure maintained, but rather personal aggrandizement that leaves the people starving and destitute. 

Thus, democratic stewardship tends to avoid despotic excesses, but the internet is making it ironically unpopular and volatile hardships are quickly returning.

You see the pattern laid threadbare in Jonathan Fenby's France: A Modern History, as manifold wild political compositions emphatically emerge in France post-1789 (42 different governments between World Wars).

But he points out how they eventually stabilized a working efficient civil service, with democratic goals at its tender heart, which has kept things running smoothly throughout the upheavals.

Something to shoot for something to preserve as the Internet Tyrants frustrate like Khan.

So many components they can't comprehend.

Which drives them to seek absolutism all the more. 

Aladdin

With the situation in the Middle-East becoming worse and worse every day, I have to ask myself, what would I do if I had three wishes regarding the region?

First wish: a long-lasting truce between the Palestinians and the Israelis. 

It's sad because it seemed like one was developing before the Palestinians butchered the 1,200 Israeli settlers. Now, after Israel's over-the-top reaction, it seems like peace is a long long long ways off, although there was a time when it seemed like England and France would never stop going to war.

Second wish: moderate life-affirming governments replace the bloodthirsty rulers of Israel and Iran.

I imagine most people in Israel and Iran just want to do what most people everywhere just want to do, that is, work a solid day and then relax with friends and family afterwards. Unless they're extremist nutjobs, they likely don't want to fight in a war that will only profit other extremist nutjobs. So it goes decade after decade in the Middle-East. Israel exists. And it's quite the cool place I hear. 

Third wish: the countries of the Middle-East forge a lasting peace through the creation of an interconnected trade union whose continuous maintenance benefits everyone.

If only they could do what most of Europe has already done. It's not too late for Russia to join. After signing a lasting peace deal with Ukraine. 

Crossworlds

Another time, a different ethos effectively guiding and teaching and nurturing, instructive discernment generating calculi, directly concerned with democratic birth.

Thus the narrative examines the oft critiqued discourse of the many, and the general difficulties at times arising from forming multilateral conzensai.

The inherent feuding the passionate conceptions the multiple viewpoints the limited time, can negatively affect a progressive agenda when animately called to efficiently govern.

How to collectively prioritize specific criteria for implementation, when immaculate difference innately illuminates sundry equitable alternative possibilities?

Fortunately, at reasonable times the definitive trust placed in a leadership team, resiliently results in universal action widely supported by different groups.

Hence Jagmeet Singh and Justin Trudeau were able to accomplish so much with limited time, and improve the lives of millions of Canadians with anti-scab legislation and accessible dentistry. 

But times changed and the spectrum shifted much more to the right and disaster loomed, at which point the Liberals found a more conservative leader who still demonstrated heart at the end of the day (political brilliance).

Thankfully it worked in Canada and the authoritarian impulse was rebuked, the doctrine of manifold conflicting agendas resolutely upheld for another mandate.

Perhaps it seems chaotic to some when a more streamlined agenda is delineated, and the substantial interests of a smaller segment of a robust population are widely transmitted.

But, as Spock points out, do the needs of the many not collectively outweigh, those of the diligent few who can't generally agree with less fanatical hardline dictates. 

Crossworlds doesn't present a superhero to intriguingly uphold its democratic thrust, a constructive studious no-nonsense human is collaboratively chosen to contend instead.

To confront the imperial forces seeking to see dynamic worlds enslaved.

Like the subway riders in The Darkest Hour.

Courageously endowed.

Formidably resolved. 

Bedknobs & Broomsticks

If the world somehow is an elaborate computer program far too intricate and complex to be deciphered, enticing clues bewilderingly illuminating ephemeral features from time to time, then perhaps such a program indeed scrutably encourages the experimental study of magic, peculiar words and nonsensical sayings at times im/materializing the byzantine matrix.

With no television or lively books to asymmetrically animate for thousands of years, creative peeps were left to improvisationally conjure with inspired wordplay to pass the millennia.

The matrix no doubt multivariably arrayed with extraordinarily advanced multilayered codes (prone to mutation), random thoughts and stray meanderings no doubt appearing like miraculous magic.

If someone was somehow born with a heightened degree of latent microcomputational moxie, gregariously gifted or hypertextually attuned, they could perhaps intuit manifold enchanting mélanges which in turn would seem like bewitching spells.

But such knowledge, atypically obtained, may lead to periodic problematized predicaments, when unheralded random unexpected individuals effectively emerged with historic independence. 

Sensing a challenge to orthodox hegemonies these sorcerers were traditionally met with rancour, the sure and steady domesticization of sensation much more reliable and routinely applauded.

Eventually science and medicine found clever ways to outwit them however, and emboldened unsung wizards and witches began sharing their experimental work.

Through the creation of accessible journals they could work together as an international eclective, and gradually build upon one another's work to eventually create the postmodern world.

As science became more bold and the international network more habitually astounding, the computational framework of the natural environment began to present itself with enlightened dignity. 

Still far too advanced to suddenly unravel with universal elasticity, the meticulous stewardship of the magical journals discovering different aspects piece by piece.

Perhaps far too complex for even a dependable millennia of journalling to understand, the knowledge and hypotheses still collectively remain to encourage growth and metaphysical realism.

Loved Bedknobs & Broomsticks in my youth and it suddenly popped into my head during the winter, the classic blend of live action and animation brought to life with a wholesome macabre touch.

Within the magic of knights and animals contends with brutal mechanized efficiency. 

With the help of intuitive wonder.

Probably still a cool film for young families. 

*Written on eclipse day. 

The Holiday Calendar

A creative photographer does the legwork for an unimaginative yet reliable small business, earning enough scrilla to keep up her apartment while her well-meaning family asks tough questions (Kat Graham).

Her best friend is keen and sympathetic and returns one Christmas from his travels abroad, eager to pick up where they left off as habitual merrymaking yearns and flourishes (Quincy Brown).

Meanwhile, her enigmatic grandfather (Ron Cephas Jones) shares one of her recently deceased grandma's treasures, a giant old school European advent calendar that fluidly winds up and shares daily presents.

Things routinely proceed as the photographic enterprise heads outside, to take pictures of youngsters with Santa as he meticulously notes their gift ideas.

But soon strange coincidences take place which only have one spirited explanation, that the gifted intricate advent calendar is mysteriously forecasting fate!

Every day unexpected events find symbolic representation numerically adjudicated, as the innocent shutterbug wondrously believes and sincerely follows the magical path.

But it becomes apparent that the picture perfect beau the calendar has showcased lacks eccentric merit.

Her closest friend making it known he's upset.

Will the spirit of Christmas heal their friendship?

I thought this was a really cool idea for a Christmas film that cleverly reimagines Holiday Season essentials, the old school advent calendar clairvoyantly presenting cryptic yet definitive structure.

A bigger budget with more time spent and perhaps with a major studio reworking the story, not that the original lacks seasonal merriment, I just thought it could be even more epic. 

Imagine living the ahistorical dream with an emancipatory place for a nimble eclective, while securing amorous accolades and the heartfelt devotion of a trusted friend.

Who knows where the regenerative magic of the clandestine Season holistically resides, perhaps it's rather like the Force and is infinitesimally everywhere all at once? 

Notably in eggnog and gingerbread it must enliven these treats every December.

Not to mention random gift ideas.

Hot cocoa.

Hibernating dreams.  

Gedo senki (Tales from Earthsea)

It's fun to throw around terms like immortality or magic at times, to take part in mythological shenanigans as reputedly envisaged in fermenting fashion.

But if reality needs be materialistically applied, I've never been interested in living forever, it seems like it would be incredibly dull in fact, and if you kept growing older, an encumbering plight. 

Vampires apparently don't age but who would want to live forever without the sun?, that would be an extremely unfortunate predicament certainly not to be genuinely envied.

I do believe in life after death perhaps sustained through the potent dreamworld, your dreams persisting perhaps like purgatory until you reach some form of nirvana. 

The belief in life after death does solve several concrete problems, and leaves you less burdened by temporal considerations throughout the rapid progression of time.

Make sure you're not too much of a prick and worries of damnation fade as well, the congenial afterlife even animal heaven I imagine sustained by decent people across the land.

I don't think repenting on your death bed or absolution late in life prevents the onset of hell for the truly wicked.

They're punished ruthlessly post-mortality.

Somewhat like Jacob Marley.

But I don't think the punishment is indefinite the chance to rise again indeed enlightening, I've always intuitively believed in reincarnation (as I've mentioned before) for which I was reprimanded at a young age.

Perhaps there is nothing else perhaps just the dirt and ashes follow, after a fertile robust life inquisitively lived through cultural sleuthing.

I find it much less depressing and much more constructive to think otherwise however, there really is no way to determine the answer, and a future filled with multiple lives and multiverses leads to more pleasant thoughts throughout mortal life.

I don't mean for such thoughts to influence government spending or tax-based initiatives, practical reality indeed paramount when trying to spend hard-earned vital incomes.

With competing ideologies in the democratic realm unfortunately the phrase practical realities becomes more abstract, but it's still less corrupt than a one-party system and at least you can still critique and disagree.

Imagine immortality during an ice age, who knows, perhaps that's how we survived!

Like many others, I believe death's a natural part of life.

Not that it means I want to stop living.

Cool film. 

Tenkû no shiro Rapyuta (Castle in the Sky)

A largely unknown mythical heritage gracefully envelopes young aloof Sheeta, who would rather just be left alone than frenetically chased by an irate military.

Pazu has found work and community when he suddenly finds her one fortuitous day, and helps her feverishly escape when her former captors defiantly threaten.

Pirates also emerge in search of legendary boundless treasure, to which they believe Sheeta holds the key unlocking mad abundant riches.

They search for an ancient legend solemnly floating in the sky, where once a race of international influencers secretly advanced global sociocultural reckoning.

They also hypothetically accumulated mass resourceful mineral commodities, how to infiltrate and escape with such embroidered booty remaining a compelling infinite challenge.

The military naturally thinks the fortress could be used as an invincible weapon, and seeks to somehow control it with no prior knowledge of the structure whatsoever. 

A descendent of the race who once dwelt there seeks the same thing but possesses access codes, and could theoretically wield its power should he acquire Sheeta's magic talisman.

She's much more modern however and adamantly agrees with her mystical forebears.

Isn't it more exciting to live on the surface?

Away from lofty sequestered disparities.

I imagine it's fun to live everywhere perhaps even under the ocean in a secret sea fortress, which could furtively move undetected alongside pods of whales and ebullient dolphins (wrote this before I saw Ponyo). 

The tale still presents a classic narrative style congenially bent on less stratified collectives, wherein which mutual prosperity guides communal initiatives with fluent understanding.

I'm surprised a live action version of this story has yet to be made, it's the best fantasy film I've seen in years and has so many thrilling adventurous elements. 

The magical ties to ancient ways still potentially producing postmodern peculiarities. 

Is this just something people have always assumed?

Still fun to have (harmless) origin myths at times. 

Gake no ue no Ponyo (Ponyo)

An eccentric caretaker vigilantly monitors and looks after oceanic depths, consistently attempting to facilitate harmony beneath the temperamental seas.

He's rather tightly attuned to rhythmic supernatural submersion, and even cares for aquatic wonders too young to freely roam. 

But his most spirited daughter suddenly escapes one propitious morn, and eventually finds herself on land in the adoring company of a human.

The child is on his way to school when he accidentally cuts himself, his wound soon licked by the curious goldfish and instantly healed through nascent magic.

She's named "Ponyo" by little Sôsuke who becomes deeply enamoured with his friend, but her father remains distraught and soon reacquires her through immortal counsel. 

We learn that he is collecting unique transformative elixirs, which he hopes to use to change the world one epoch transfigurative day. 

But little Ponyo makes an escape during which she chaotically disrupts his plans.

The ocean erupting in imaginative fury.

Ponyo finding Sôsuke once more. 

Imagine the ocean 10,000 years ago, abounding with the practically uninterrupted fecundity of thousands upon thousands of transformative millennia!

Whales everywhere to be seen coral reefs extending far past fathomable limits, manatees and dugongs flourishing unabashed, crab and lobster expertly radiating. 

No wonder legendary tales consistently emerged with divine hyperbole, as a lack of knowledge inspired courageous deeds and habitual curiosity envisaged remonstration.

Ghibli suggests that even with our technology and the ways we've adapted to oceanic resilience, we've lost something by moving beyond legend into a much more practical repartee.

Too much of an emphasis on fact can tether daring adventurous spirits, to wayward predictable trajectories lacking variability and versatile imagination (we clearly still need to clean the oceans up). 

Not that a practical focus isn't particularly requisite in traditional commerce.

It's just at times it doesn't make recreational sense.

And for thousands of years there was nothing to do.

*Figures not precise estimates.

**That's the first time I've ballparked civilization's history.

Stardust

A nondescript wall divides two lands both of which have little knowledge of the other, but on occasion people pass through to curiously see what rests on the other side.

One path resembles an old school version of what's often referred to as material reality, wherein which science painstakingly unravels concealed secrets through vigorous study.

The other's indeed much more magical where stars and witches contemporaneously reside, different life forms taking on supernatural proportions as fervid fantasy frenetically sculpts.

An adventurous temperate lad crosses the border one fateful evening, and strikes up an amorous association before swiftly returning home.

Months later, a newborn babe suddenly appears on his modest doorstep, with a note attached and explicit instructions that it's not to be opened till he comes of age.

The babe is reared by romantic blueprints cohesively intuited and adoringly suckled, and even though he lacks corporeal agency, his enriched spirit jocosely thrives.

In the land of fantasy, a brilliant star cavernously crash lands rather unexpectedly, after a none too heartwarming decree attunes unwitting rivals to stellar constellation.

But covetous witches soon learn of its misfortune and one sets out to acquire its light, for if she's able to eat her heart her youthful endeavours will then regenerate.

The former babe learns of his fantastic origins and is transported to the star to fulfill a promise.

Unaccustomed to the land of magic.

His enchanted spirit guides him.

Romantically adorned and everlastingly arrayed, Matthew Vaughn's Stardust rambunctiously radiates, as haphazard improvised declamation serendipitously seeks out love.

A shame to see the two worlds cut off from constructive dialogues akin to outstanding, pejorative prejudice presumed by both sides leading to mutually dissonant contention.

Should the elevated art of persuasion ardently lay down its feverish flourishes, to articulate waylaid concrete indubitably practical schemes and strategies?

Should the blunt and direct fatalistic alarmed wisecracking determinate brigade, allow for scandalous spiritual syndications regenerative uplifting abstract accords?

Do Marvel films in fact represent working syntheses of the aforementioned?

Perhaps at times they do.

As does the crafty Stardust.

The Alchemist's Cookbook

I reckon many imaginative people find the idea of alchemy appealing, the ancient search for magical realism 😎 as exceptionally alluring in any century.

It'd be worth taking a bit of time to compile a comprehensive bibliography, to see how often it's shown up in fiction, I'd wager one exists already.

Or several perhaps, multilaterally speaking, I'm unaware how realistically it was taken by yesteryear, there may even be whole sections in the British and French national libraries, Canadian and American history perhaps not as robust.

You would think it would have once been a dependable subject for versatile comedians, or illusionist/buffoon teams who put their heads together to entertain.

The romantic in me shyly wonders if anyone ever achieved the goal.

Such incredible knowledge of the natural world.

Long before taxonomical exasperation.

But I have no wish to see romance turn to dread like the lead's (Ty Hickson) experience in The Alchemist's Cookbook, his grand misfortune superstitiously compounded by an untutored embrace of the age old discipline. 

He seems to have been of two minds regarding the spirit and the secular, and even though he excelled at chemistry was still routinely bewildered by angels & demons.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if so many people didn't manipulate spiritual authenticity, making it generally impossible to trust any lucid supernatural symbiosis? 

You don't want to trust and be made a fool of, but manifest belief foils bland cynicism, the dismissal of everything consistently dull, the wholehearted embrace a contradictory blur.

I guess you can't feed all the animals in the forest, but if you see one who's injured it's cool to help out, perhaps some tropical forests come equipped with year round bounty, the northern forests of Canada and Québec a challenging struggle.

I wasn't going to watch a macabre flick in 2022 since dad passed away last year around this time, but frights still feverishly found me with mind-boggling active dialectic fervour (I wasn't expecting this film at all).

The age of reason certainly is much less of an inherent habitual gong show, I imagine.

But are people having less fun?

Could be a cool book, it's tough to say.

I imagine an alchemist would see through it regardless of epoch, trend, century, or stigma.

I wonder how raccoons relate to alchemy?

Through multidisciplinary agile play? 

🦝

Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness

Into the Multiverse again, parallel worlds, divergent destinies, similar parameters with variable fruition, expansive alignments, indistinguishable patterns. 

Perhaps the dreamworld links them together, a dreamworld maintained by the midi-chlorians from Star Wars, animate life in one verse linked with the others through dreaming, the end of one's life like a permanent dream, before being reborn in an alternative universe.

For the sake of storytelling, the general parallels oft imagined amongst different verses make narratological sense, inasmuch as consistent character and reliable themes ensure venerable harmonies persist amidst temporal mayhem.

But the odds of the verses realistically maintaining such a high degree of familiarity seem incredibly high in my opinion, with too many monumental shifts encouraging irreparable disparities, too many variables to holistically unite.

But perhaps that's what the midi-chlorians do, I'm certainly no expert, it's just an idea, but it seems like if one world is destroyed by war it would prevent the development of historical paradigms comparable to those found in many others. 

There are many variables to manage when playing baseball, for instance, batting, fielding, pitching, relief pitching, closing pitching, different unique positions, streaks, slumps, coasting, all broken down into over a 100 years worth of statistical analyses, honestly with all that information I don't know how anyone ever makes a decision.

Multiple decisions are made every day notwithstanding the multiplicity of error, competently aligned with foresight and serendipity to make it through game after game.

Does the multiverse take into consideration the complexities of such a game, and multiply them by at least a hundred trillion, while simultaneously ensuring interdimensional commonality, between who knows how many worlds?

Nevertheless, a cool idea, which I imagine has existed since long before it was first written down, fears of being accused of heresy having persisted for millennia, invasively transformed from epoch to epoch. 

The power to travel through the spectacular flux with lucid ease and reflexive understanding, would indeed encourage spirited manifestations throughout one's cogent waking life.

Cool to see Sam Raimi back at it and still applying an independent touch.

Haven't had a veggie dog in years.

While out and about hobnobbing around town.

Spider-Man: No Way Home

 Note: a few years ago, after hearing that another company had purchased the rights to make the next Spider-Man film, I wrote a post expressing perplexed doubts, but I'm wondering if the reasons behind my initial misgivings were misinterpreted, and figured I would supply a more detailed explanation.  I didn't mean to suggest that previous Spider-Man franchises didn't add up, in fact I rather enjoyed the Sam Raimi trilogy way back when, but unfortunately never saw Andrew Garfield's films, for the following reasons. Spider-Man films were just coming out too often (like Batman films). There was Raimi's trilogy. It was great. 5 years elapsed between his trilogy and the first Amazing Spider-Man film. It wasn't enough time in my opinion. I wasn't ready to invest myself in another incarnation of the story, and thought it was more about cashing in, than presenting good storytelling. I may have been incorrect to think that and I never saw the films so I can't describe them, but I certainly wasn't ready for another Spider-Man franchise, hey, it's probably good, I probably missed out. Now Marvel has been making high quality action films for years and the universe they've created is colossal. I figure that if you were 7 years old when the first Iron Man film came out, the cinema of your youth was incredible, if you liked action films. Marvel didn't start out with a Spider-Man film, it introduced Spider-Man during Captain America: Civil War, just kind of snuck ye olde Spider-Man in there, without making much of a fuss. Taking the pressure off the new Spider-Man character made his first film much less of a spectacle, and then it turned out to be really well done, as have its successors, Marvel's youth contingent. Spider-Man: Far From Home ended on a thrilling cliffhanger and had been so well done that the thought of just ending it there and starting up again fresh with a new franchise seemed like such a bad idea, something that wouldn't sit right with millions of fans. The thought of having no closure with that narrative and suddenly having a new franchise with a new origins story and different actors 2 or 3 years later was too much, hence I thought Marvel should continue making new Spider-Man films (they had been doing such a great job). It's not that I thought the new production team would do a particularly bad job, if anything Marvel's excellence has had an auriferous effect across the action/fantasy film spectrum, DC is currently making much craftier films, not to mention the mad craze of independents. But it was possible the new franchise may have been less compelling, and no doubt would have been vehemently criticized regardless, due to the lack of closure. Spider-Man: No Way Home plays with franchise particularities, and brilliantly synthesizes the three latest franchises, in a tender and caring homage to constructive sympathy. Rather than try to defeat the 5 villains who appear after one of Dr. Strange's spells goes awry, with the help of fan favourites from the last 20 years (like living history), this youthful Spider-Man tries to find a way to cure (with help) them from the nutso accidents that led them astray. Meanwhile, he also wants to get into college while dealing with high school and a lack of anonymity. I thought it was a great idea.  An atemporal blend of different creative conceptions. Not sure where it will head next. But in terms of actions films thinking about the dynamics of action films, Spider-Man: No Way Home does an amazing job, without seeming like it's making much of an effort. Not bad. 

Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore

The magical world continues to negotiate a menacing combative destructive threat, as Gellert Grindelwald (Mads Mikkelsen) and his fascist minions seek the subjugation of muggles worldwide.

It was thought their bellicose movement would disappear if generally disregarded, but seditious sympathy at the highest levels mournfully led to political profligacy.

Dumbledore (Jude Law) stands against them but can't deliberately enter the fray, extremely powerful amorous magic heartbreakingly preventing him from taking part.

But he assembles a resolute team who synergistically subverts Gellert's monstrous flux, not with enough prowess to halt his ambition, but still with enough daring to make things interesting.

A magical beast takes the ceremonious stage as the magical elite gather in mystical Bhutan, a creature capable of discerning spiritual integrity, a virtuous quality sought by the magical world.

Newt Scamander (Eddie Redmayne) was able to locate a Qilin mother just as she was about to give birth, but Grindelwald's devout disruptive subjects suddenly emerged and captured the youngling. 

Fortunately, unbeknownst to Grindelwald, the mother gave birth to twins.

While Grindelwald's magic somnambulizes one.

The other awaits felicitous fortunes.

Fantastic Beasts: The Secrets of Dumbledore makes bold strides in the fantasy realm, with Dumbledore's sexuality directly depicted, a groundbreaking step much like Marvel's Black Panther.

His tragic love maddeningly enduring frenetic devastating bland absolutism, as Grindelwald haunting proclaims, "but who will love you Dumbledore?", before retreating back to his despotic hideaway.

Jacob Kowalski (Dan Fogler) is also back at it with as much audacious reckoning as ever, somewhat hesitant and far out of his comfort zone, but still deftly clad in honourable bearing.

Not as many magical creatures to be found within this instalment, but perhaps a Fantastic Beasts series should be considered, with a dozen or so episodes that feature Newt searching the world for magical beasts like David Attenborough (something calm)?

I have to admit, as a personal addendum, when I'm writing my blogs I truly don't doubt myself, I often like many of the sentences or stanzas I create, and know that if I didn't have to work, they'd be even better.

But the real world is tough to negotiate and I keep expecting to find friends where I only meet adversaries. 

I suppose I'm supposed to get used to it.

But I just simply can't.

It's not a world worth living in. 

The Last Unicorn

A lone unicorn forages in her forest (Mia Farrow), rather peaceful and unaware, as two hunters ride by attentively, distraught yet boastful as they search in vain.

But they converse as they critique their fortunes and unicorn listens closely, only to discover she's the last of her kind, should their bold declarations prove to be true.

Then accidentally, shortly thereafter, a boisterous butterfly stops by to say, "hello"(Robert Klein), full of song, rhyme, lyric, and flutter, composed through verbose disorientation.

Unicorn expresses her discontent with butterfly but still asks if she's the last of her kind, and he eventually presents a statement that's less befuddling if not still indirect.

Consequently, equipped with legendary knowledge and the passion to expedite change, she ventures forth in search of the Red Bull who has cruelly cloistered her fellow immortals.

Unaccustomed to questing or the world beyond her forested domain, she soon finds herself trapped by a witch and suddenly showcased in a travelling sideshow (Angela Lansbury). 

But also within the witch's employ is Schmendrick the Magician who's grown rather frustrated (Alan Arkin), not only with his position but with his fickle powers as well.

He's able to see the unicorn, her innate magic isn't hidden from view, he feels sad, he helps her escape, they move forward together, with undaunted high hopes.

A world of riddles and cryptic bemusement playfully yet hauntingly awaits, as a decrepit castle and its melancholic ruler guard a wicked age old secret (Christopher Lee). 

In terms of magic, The Last Unicorn bedazzles through charming character enchantingly invested, the narrative's music, romance, and import conjuring eloquent rhythms eclectic.

If legendary genesis never seems quite so lofty at the time of its humble début, its cheeky contemporaries full of suspicion, its requisite quest somewhat less mesmerizing, then any legend can take on the visions of a disgruntled merrymaking present, and a timeless quality effortlessly emerges, as ahistorical, as it is wise.

Thus, The Last Unicorn, while cultivating agéd times and lands, still resonates with postmodern fortitude, with ancient concurrent melodies.

Is "postmodern" still a synonym for "contemporary", insofar as this has been claimed to be the postmodern age, for some time, an incredibly diverse inclusive metaimpetus 😌, with loopholes outrageously exploited through aggrieved populism?

Nevertheless, I'm resoundingly hopeful that Rankin & Bass's Last Unicorn will endure, I never saw it in my youth, and have watched it twice in recent memory.

The butterfly scene more than that, what a beautiful idea, butterfly and unicorn.

I have seen their Hobbit cartoon several times. But alas. I can no longer find it. 😔  

The Prestige

Professional rivalry, two up and coming magicians, each determined to present the most striking spectacle, imaginable, yet one is careless, and the other's cherished love interest passes, things taking a vicious turn in the aftermath, as they both refuse to back down.

One believes in dangerous risk taking while the other is more reserved, although the intensity of their grim competition provokes grand transformations forthcoming.

One visits the coveted Tesla (David Bowie) at his residence in the wilds of Colorado, and requests the creation of a machine that can transport matter from one location to another.

He believes such a sensation has already been acquired by his adversary, and spends a fortune to flagrantly duel, his nemesis not in possession of exhaustive funds, yet more innovative counterintuitively speaking.

I've never understood compulsive obsession and the personal desire to win at all costs. Sportspersonship is too valuable a concept to be obscured by personal ambition.

It's preferable to lose having played by the rules than to succeed through nefarious means, as long as you give your best effort and suppress destructive envious tendencies.

I pay too much attention to sports to proceed otherwise, not that I'm by any means a great athlete, but so many great athletes compete year after year without ever winning anything.

This doesn't prevent them from competing or trying to win one more time, they're great role models for the active spirit who never grows weary of enriching fair play.

Alfred Borden (Christian Bale) and Robert Angier (Hugh Jackman) take things to levels I can't comprehend, to resort to sabotage or deliberate vengeance insults the art they're skilfully crafting.

I thought the arts would be much more friendly in my youth since so many of the artistic people I knew were often kind, the realities of the art world somewhat disconcerting as people critically jockey for position.

I suppose there are fewer opportunities to succeed as an artist than there are for sporty peeps, and the lack of engaging opportunity drives ambition to psychotic levels.

But it seems better to chill on the fringe than embrace destructive psychologies.

If you want the world to be a better place and you adopt ruthless means how will anything ever change?

Beyond what's written.

More respect for aging artists in the Anglo-American sphere may lead to less intense conflict, I'm by no means an expert on French culture, but it's clear they hold the arts in much higher esteem.

In general, not in relation to me, French culture seems to cultivate a much more level playing field for the arts and sports, which could explain why they're so successful at both, why they keep generating such incredible outputs.

The Prestige is an excellent film that showcases unsettling realities. 

There's so little to soulfully gain.

Through bland underhanded corruption.